Easy Way Out
by ThatRosieSparkle
Summary: Harry is well and truly by himself. WARNING: self-harm content


**A/N: Just a quick Songfic to stop me going insane.**** The song is 'By Myself' by Linkin Park. It's such a Harry song! Think of the lyrics as Harry's thoughts, if you will, and the narrative as, well, the narrative.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Linkin Park, as much as I would like to.**

Easy Way Out

_What do I do to ignore them behind me?  
__Do I follow my instincts blindly?  
__Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams  
__And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?_

Harry stared at his wrists. White scars threaded their way over his veins, criss-crossing like rivers and tracks of ice. Pale skin marred by even paler lines, evidence of his self destruction.

_Do I sit here and try to stand it?  
Or do I try to catch them red-handed?_

His thoughts flashed to those who had betrayed him. Dumbledore: time after time he had asked Harry to risk his life, never once giving an explanation. Never excusing the constant forsaking of a trust now worn so thin.

_Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness?  
__Or do I trust nobody and live in loneliness?_

Ron and Hermione: long ago he had driven them away, tortured by phantom whispers he couldn't quite hear, paranoid about what he couldn't quite see. Convinced by his own thoughts of conspiracies and lies.

_Because I can't hold on when I'm stretched so thin  
__I make the right moves but I'm lost within_

The dying sun threw its last rays onto the knife lying beside him on the cold stone floor. Sharp steel glinted invitingly as his long fingers trembled towards the handle, then finally gripped it tightly, his knuckles standing out bleached white against parchment skin.

_I put on my daily fa__ç__ade but then  
__I just end up getting hurt again_

Smooth, cool metal connected with burning flesh, drawn smoothly along familiar paths already plotted on his wrists. Hot tears flooded down his face, green eyes glittering with pain.

_By myself [myself  
__I ask why, but in my mind  
__I find I can't rely on myself_

_[myself  
__I ask why, but in my mind  
__I find I can't rely on myself_

Blundering now, he shakily carved a fresh arch over his fragile wrist.

_I can't hold on  
__To what I want when I'm stretched so thin  
__It's all too much to take in_

Memories, people, flashed in his mind. Confusion, betrayal, swirled in his thoughts. Blissful relief as the blade cut again.

_I can't hold on  
__To anything watching everything spin  
__With thoughts of failure sinking in_

He couldn't do what the world was asking him to. He couldn't find the strength, not anymore. After so much loss, so much pain, how could he even try? How could he let people down like he knew he would?

_If I turn my back I'm defenceless  
__And to go blindly seemed senseless  
I__f I hide my pride and let it all go on then they'll  
__Take from me 'til everything is gone_

He wasn't prepared, he knew this. Why did nobody else? He was fighting a losing battle, Voldemort getting stronger by the day. Death Eaters permeating everyday life, danger hanging over him like a fog that refused to lift. The constant daily battle with those around him was sapping his energy, his will to carry on. It seemed futile to fight to keep people alive when all he knew all he was doing was prolonging their suffering, allowing them to watch their world being overcome by darkness.

_If I let them go I'll be outdone  
__But if I try to catch them I'll be outrun  
__If I'm killed by the questions like a cancer  
__Then I'll be buried in the silence of the answer_

Everything he had tried had failed. He persisted in his struggle against the Dark Lord who remained, as ever, elusive and untouchable. No matter how close he thought it was another obstacle always threw itself into his path. If Voldemort didn't, the effort, surely, would kill him.

_By myself [myself  
__I ask why, but in my mind  
__I find I can't rely on myself_

_[myself  
__I ask why, but in my mind  
__I find I can't rely on myself_

He remembered the faces of people who, for so many years, had made him feel loved, secure. Now, abandoned, he had only those countless distant strangers, each relying on him to save them all. Each faceless victim another weight upon his shoulders. He was surrounded by people who needed him yet he was completely alone. Isolated, shut off, by the one thing that connected them all.

_I can't hold on  
__To what I want when I'm stretched so thin  
__It's all too much to take in_

He couldn't keep up with the demands of the wizarding world. He had tried and failed on so many levels.

_I can't hold on  
__To anything watching everything spin  
__With thoughts of failure sinking in_

The blade sunk in again, slamming him back into reality.

_How do you think  
__I've lost so much  
__I'm so afraid  
__I'm out of touch_

He couldn't save people. Not Cedric, not Sirius, not Dumbledore, no-one. So he pushed away those closest to him. Afraid that they, too, might get hurt.

_How do you expect  
__I will know what to do  
__When all I know  
__Is what you tell me to_

At the thought of Dumbledore fury bubbled in his chest, begging for the knife to calm him once more. So many questions left unanswered, so many requests left unfulfilled. He had always trusted Dumbledore implicitly, followed him blindly, and now he was left unable to see any possible way out.

_Don't you [know  
__I can't tell you how to make it [go  
__No matter what I do, how hard I [try  
__I can't seem to convince myself [why  
__I'm stuck on the outside_

Except for one.

_Don't you [know  
__I can't tell you how to make it [go  
__No matter what I do, how hard I [try  
__I can't seem to convince myself [why  
__I'm stuck on the outside_

Cold metal slid seductively against his skin. He pressed a little harder, cut a little deeper and was met by a gasp escaping from his own lips.

_I can't hold on  
__To what I want when I'm stretched so thin  
__It's all too much to take in_

He brought the blade down again, silver arcing through the air, glinting and glittering, connecting with flesh. Paper thin skin tearing so easily under such brute force. Pain seared up his arm and into his head. His body screamed for him to stop, but he didn't.

_I can't hold on  
__To anything watching everything spin  
__With thoughts of failure sinking in_

The room span, his vision blurred. Blood pooled on the floor, staining his slender fingers, lapping against his lifeless form, caressing the knife that now lay discarded by the dying boy.

_I can't hold on  
__To what I want when I'm stretched so thin  
__It's all too much to take in_

He was supposed to be a hero. He was supposed to be a saviour. He was supposed to die in battle, fighting for whatever it was he was supposed to believe in.

_I can't hold on  
__To anything watching everything spin  
__With thoughts of failure sinking in_

But no. For once, he was taking the easy way out.

**Well? What do you think? R&R! Don't flame me please. **


End file.
